


blue and green

by keithundead



Category: Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Human/Monster Society, Other, Rituals, Witches, character death??? technically?, im finally writing scaryparx you guys its here, waterparks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-01-27 03:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keithundead/pseuds/keithundead
Summary: he's glad to have his friend back, sure, but sending him to the afterlife again? not on his to-do list.
Relationships: Awsten Knight/Geoff Wigington, Awsten Knight/Jawn Rocha
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. ex friends till the end; big brothers and a short stack of the undead

**Author's Note:**

> read the tw at the end before reading!

That night was loud. The hum of flies and chirp of crickets could be heard a few feet away, and the pouring rain made harsh splattering noises against the gravestones. The rain caused a small stream to flow through the divots between graves. Grass was pushed along the slabs of rock as roaring winds swam through the cemetery. There, in front of one particular grave, the grass stood perfectly still.

Violent scrapes and pounds from below added another sound to the environment, and the world seemed to pause in order to listen. She smiled down at her work, raised her hands to feel the power of her patron course through her palms, and spoke the last words of the curse. The sky clapped another round of thunder, and the tombstone in front of her cracked.

The ground below her began to concave downwards, revealing the splintered coffin. With a stroke of her palm across the wood, a surge of power pushed her back, landing her flat against the closest tombstone, tilting it a bit. A bright, towering moon loomed above her, and for a moment she took this as a warning from her patron, but soon disregarded the remark and trudged back to the site.

Before she could revamp the contents of the coffin, a dirt covered hand sprouted at the same time as a crack of lightning.

* * *

“You did _ what _?”

“I, uh, brought back groceries?” she held up the bags in her hands with a raised eyebrow, giving proof that she did, in fact, pick up the groceries Awsten requested.

He huffed, because he _ knew _she knew what he was talking about, and he was far too much of an older brother to admit when he could’ve been wrong. This was serious, and they needed to talk about it.

“Don’t pull that with me, young lady!” he said, putting his hands on his hips and promptly aging 20 years, “you _ just _told me you cast a spell at the cemetery!”

“Did I?”

Awsten didn’t appreciate being mocked, and he needed to know what Gracie was up to at that fucking cemetery. It’s nearly 11pm, way past her curfew, and he wanted answers. They weren’t supposed to commune with the dead unless they got direct orders _ from _the dead- it’ll make the whole coven look bad! He couldn’t afford another scandal, like last year’s Samhain.

He stomped his foot in front of her, creating an invisible barrier between her and the rest of the house, “_ ORJEUS IL TRUICUS _!” Within seconds, Gracie dropped her bags and blurted the secret she attempted to hide from him.

“I… brought him back.” she sighed, regaining her sense of mind and using her returned strength to look down at her feet in shame. “I wanted to see if I could do it, so I did.”

_ She brought someone back? _ He thought, he was scared for her, witches aren’t supposed to bring _ anything _back from the afterlife.

It took Awsten a moment, _ who could she have- oh _ , it clicked for a second, then it clicked for way longer than a second and he felt like he was going to faint. An overwhelming sense of dread had his head pounding, he began to sweat from, well, everywhere. This was worse than bad, this was… too much for his mental state. He was a mess a week ago, and he’s still recovering, but he doesn’t need _ this _ . Having him back wouldn’t help, having too look at him like _ that _wouldn’t help, it’s not good. Absolutely not good.

“Gracie,” tears threatened to form in his eyes, “what did you do.”

It was more of a demand to speak than a question, and she seemed to get quiet, which was unlike her. It didn’t suit either of them, standing in the hallway to the kitchen in complete silence. They talk to each other, they don’t _ keep _secrets, but ever since Otto died… they weren’t the same.

Gracie was like another little sister to Otto, and with him being such a close friend to the family, it took a toll on their branch of the coven entirely. He was one the few humans they could trust, especially in the middle of Buttfuck Nowhere, Texas, but the rest of the coven found him admirable. He was a good guy, he didn’t deserve to go the way he did, he had plans. When he died, Awsten knew he had to bring Gracie to live with him, their parents saw death as a fleeting circumstance, and it would definitely take the two of them more time to recover.

“I-” tears began to well up in _ her _eyes this time, “I can’t, Aws, I’m sorry.” he felt guilty now, he didn’t expect her to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’ll be okay.” he wrapped his arms around her shoulders protectively, “I know, I know.”

They were both in tears now, leaning on each other for support and trying their best not to see each other cry. At Otto’s seance, he told them from beyond the grave that he never wanted them to mourn for him, that he wanted them to move on. But here they are, mourning and staying in the same state of shock they were in a week ago. Gracie was the worst between the two, blubbering her eyes out like a little kid into his shoulder. He didn’t mind her tears, of course, but it felt like a dozen knives being stuck into him at once.

Then. 

There was a banging at the door, then there was no door at all.

They separated, looking back at the doorway in fear. He stood there, drenched in rain and dirt and Gracie _ swears _she sees the same strike of lightning that emerged from the clouds when that hand came out of the ground. Her mascara is down her eyes, and Awsten feels a pit in his stomach that tells him they’re both going to pay for this.

Otto’s eyes are stark white, glowing in pale light in the gloomy darkness outside. His flesh was rotting, holes ranging from freckled to gaping wide were scattered across his skin. His hair was greasy, matted locks hanging unceremoniously in front of his face. The suit he was dressed in from his funeral had tiny, maggot eaten holes littered across it. 

Awsten was the first to move closer to his former friend, and right when he reached a hand out to pull the door closed, Otto growled low in his throat. That _ thing _raised his arms above Awsten’s head, and all he could do was tremble under his menacing hand.

As Otto raised his arm higher, Gracie began to cry again, shouting “NO!” from the top of her lungs. Awsten stood still, but flinched as his friend’s hand touched his head.

He felt him- ruffle his hair? Otto. Undead Otto. Motherfucking Zombie Otto ruffled his hair, bellowed his iconic snort-laugh, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Gotcha.” 


	2. rough around the edges; how do you like your zombie in the morning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up a really cringey spell because I was watching wizards of waverly place while writing this

_ "In other news, the formerly extinct species of zombies has a gleam of hope as we discover a houston grave appears to have been crawled out from. More at eleven." _

* * *

Awsten rubbed his eyes, it's been a week since Otto came back from the dead. It's been a nightmare come true having one of his best friends in the form of some... rotting-alive-person.

He looks in the bathroom mirror; he's a mess. His purple hair is fading to a pale lilac and his green eyes resemble old cd's that've been lost in the river out back. He's been on edge for Otto's sake; having to reattach limbs and ward off maggots is not how he wanted to spend the summer. It's exhausting, but sickeningly refreshing living with him again.

Awsten's parents didn't care, just gave the undead boy a tap on the shoulder and went back to solstice preparations. They were never the "oh great! you're alive!" kind of people. Otto's parents, however, were over the moon. Otto's mom came over nearly every day to feed her son human food (he couldn't stomach the stuff at first, but now he remembers how to digest again) and make small talk with Awsten and Gracie. They were always happy to have her over, but the toll on Otto being coddled straight from his return made him irritable.

Awsten had bags under his eyes. He's had prophetic nightmares every single night about zombie Otto, and none of them ended well. He knew they were prophetic because Otto's former seer girlfriend, Grace, was sending visions to him. Whenever she has a bad feeling about anything, she uses the old psychic bond between her and Awsten to give him warnings. Grace hasn't come over to see Otto at all, and hearing Otto's cries in the middle of the night makes Awsten wish she would. No matter their, uh, awkward circumstances.

He hasn't shaved, either. It makes him feel gross, above everything wrong with his face, when he doesn't shave. The stubble juts from his cheeks, jaw, and cupid's bow in uneven bursts of greasy hair. He scratches at himself, trying to feel the skin underneath the sandpaper-like texture. 

"Bro, hurry up in there!" Gracie's southern twang is prominent in her command, and it makes Awsten remember a time when they were younger and it'd be _ him _ rushing _ her _ out of the bathroom.

He brushes his teeth, fast and ineffectively, then spits into the sink. He unlocks the door, and Gracie nearly knocks the wind out of him with how fast she pushes him out. _ That girl's getting stronger _, he ponders, remembering when all Gracie was capable of doing was shoving him lightly. He misses when they were kids- when Otto wasn't dead.

Awsten walks into the kitchen to see Otto at the stove. His eyes widen in shock, surprised that his arm hasn't fallen off. Otto looks up from where he's making- wait a fucking second, waffles? Holy shit, that's Awsten's favorite. Awsten shakes his head to rid himself of the distraction, and Otto smiles at him.

"Breakfast." Otto grunts, his grin of yellowed, aged teeth contrasting the muddy green wash of his ivory skin.

It pains Awsten to see him smile; as he found out rather recently, one of the few facial expressions Otto can recall is smiling. Even when his limbs would get accidentally torn off by a way-too-tight hug or a snag of his clothes, Otto would force himself to smile.

"That's a big word, buddy." of all things, he didn't expect Otto to relearn that word, or cook anything at all.

"Yes. Breakfast is here." Otto carries his pan of squished-up waffles to the dining table, then promptly throws it on the surface.

Awsten wants to laugh, but he knows Otto didn't know any better, so he just settles for a "might wanna use a plate next time."

"Plates. Yes." Otto reaches into a cabinet he left open to grab a plate. He's too short to fully get in there, so he- oh fuck. Not again.

He pulls his left hand out of its place with his right hand, using the added length to get two plates for him and Awsten. After he puts them both on the counter, Otto looks dumbfounded at the empty space where his hand used to be.

This is, quite possibly, the longest week Awsten’s had to survive in. 

* * *

Another week passes. 

Gracie won't come out of her room now; from what Awsten can smell in there, she's spell casting again. She did this when Awsten went to college for a year, when their grandma passed- pretty much any time she was stressed.

Grace finally called him back. She knew about Otto from the news, and she knew Awsten was scared to bring it up because of the remnants of their mental link. They talked about how the other person was doing, mostly; they made their inside jokes, recalled the shitty Houston weather and whatnot. When it came to Otto, the tone was different. Grace was in a rush to hang up the phone as quickly as she could from how she spoke with Awsten, but he learned to let it go. She didn't matter right now, nobody else mattered. What Awsten had to focus on was his rotting sack of a best friend.

Otto's parents made more visits. This time they brought food for everybody, not just Otto. Awsten felt guilty for taking Gracie's casserole, but he knew she wouldn't feel like eating for a while. and Otto... Otto had some... trouble when it came to manners nowadays. now, when he sees food, he'll just assume it's his. Awsten (more than he would like to) has to tell him "no" or "Otto, quit eating that" like a bossy parent scolding a gluttonous five year old. He really didn't want Otto to have a third parent. Not in the slightest.

_ Awsten’s _parents still don't care. They were too focused on witchy shit and reminding him to take care of his little sister. As if she'd let him take care of her.

He kind of misses that.

* * *

_ Living with a zombie isolates the soul, as they don't have one of their own,_ Awsten writes in his grimiore. Two weeks have gone by now, and it feels like Awsten's front door is always open, considering how many people are in and out of it.

This time, their friends come over; Zakk and Lucas at first, being the most concerned, and then Jawn, Geoff, and Travis who just felt like hanging out would cheer up the atmosphere. He felt relieved Lucas and Zakk didn't promote their necromancy businesses after their third visit, he did not feel like burying his friend _ again. _ He most certainly did not want to know how you could bury zombies without killing them. he wishes they were more like Geoff and Jawn- without them being ancestral enemies, of course. Not a videogame session goes by where Jawn doesn't shove Geoff "on accident" or Geoff doesn't hiss right back at him. It's refreshing to see his friends, but he wishes they were a bit more... human. Like Travis.

While he shaves, for the first time in almost a month, he can hear something. It's reminiscent of a snake rattle, or sputtering water. Awsten can't quite place his finger on it... but it's there. He stalks towards the shower, ready to pull back the curtain to absolutely deck that possible snake. When he does, he sees green smoke seeping through the shower head. Dammit.

"Gracie!" he shouts, anger fueling his tone.

He stomps upstairs, startling a relaxed Otto on his way to the TV. He felt bad for spooking the poor guy, but if Gracie is doing what he thinks she's doing, he has every right to be upset.

Of course, when he gets to her room, the door is locked. Of fucking course it is. This calls for a spell, Awsten thinks to himself, and not the fun kind.

"Without the key here with me, I command thee to slip this doorknob free." it wasn't as cool as his usual jumble Gaelic, but he needed something quick to open the door. When the doorknob fell out of the socket in Gracie's door, even more green smoke poured out of it.

"Gracie! open this door right now!" he shouted again, trying to reach his hand in through the hole in the door to untwist the lock. He felt a sharp slap on his knuckles, but persisted anyway; he was getting into that room.

"Why don't you ever mind-" she forces his hand out, "your damn-" then Awsten swats her away, "-business!" 

Gracie falls on her back when Awsten finally opens the door, green gas filling the entire hallway.

"The last time I did that," Awsten says, huffing and puffing from his lack of breath, "you summoned the dead."

He covered his mouth with his shirt, unable to breathe in the stench of gracie's candlelit room. In the middle of it, there was a comically sized cauldron, bubbling and steaming at the brim with neon green liquid. He knew that potion color like the back of his hand. A reanimation spell.

"What are you brewing that for?" he coughed out, closing the door to make sure Otto wouldn't wander in.

"Look, I-" Gracie stopped mid sentence to look down in shame. "I wanted to help, okay? That's why I've been up here."

"What do you mean 'help'?" Awsten felt that to be ironic, considering her "help" last time got them into their current situation. "What could you possibly do to help anyone?"

Awsten wishes he hadn't said that.

Gracie looks like how she did when otto first showed up at their door: completely frightened. She sucks in a breath, which Awsten can't believe she can do, and crosses her arms.

"Really, big bro?" she says, still feeling the sting of Awsten's words, "didn't know I was that much of a nuisance to you."

They stood in silence, looking at each other with two different gazes: one disappointed and one apologetic. Gracie was the first to speak up.

"If you must know," she uncrosses her arms to gesture to the cauldron, "I'm helping Otto."

"With a reanimation potion? You know that'll kill him again, right?" Awsten knew anything dead could get reincarnated with a spell, but anything undead was meant to stay that way. An unwritten witch's rule was to keep the dead _ dead _, and the undead in their limbo.

"Not- ugh- not this one," she says with more confidence, "this one's a zombie cure. Made specifically for people brought back to life."

"And how do you know this?"

"It's, um, not important." Gracie shrugs, knowing how important it is.

"Instead of repurposing a body to its original state of, y'know, deadness," she walks closer to the cauldron, stirring a metal ladle in the potion, "it makes zombies into actual people. Like, living and breathing and speaking stuff."

"That's..." Awsten pauses, unsure of what to say.

"Genius, right?"

"A load of malarkey."

"Fuck off, I saw it on TV. It works."

"You know the last zombie sighting before Otto was in the 70s, right? This stuff doesn't work." this time, Awsten crosses his arms.

"Well, my sources say otherwise." she retorts, a smug tone in her voice.

"And those sources would be?"

Gracie glances at her watch, then back to the potion, nervously. "Like I said, not important.”

"Give me that," Awsten swipes at the ladle, missing as Gracie moves it out of his way, "you don't know what the repercussions are. And you're lucky I don't tell mom and dad."

This time, Gracie gave him a don’t-you-dare-touch-that glare. Responsibly, Awsten backed off, not wanting his hand replaced with an amphibian or something.

“You gonna tell on me or something? Fucking go ahead.” she scoffs, stirring away at her brew, “we aren’t kids anymore, that shit doesn’t work on me.”

Awsten would like to argue that, considering their parents have always been strict about as-seen-on-tv spells and potions. He decides against it, because they really aren’t kids anymore. He mulls over that comment for a while, thinking about when they _ were _still kids. They used to wear big, floppy witch hats from party city and stir soap/water “potions” back in kindergarten. They used to have fun, actual fun; they didn’t have to worry about their friends falling apart right in front of them. He sighs, because he realizes now what she’s doing.

“Gracie,” he says softly, like when she was first born and he wanted to be the first one to pick her up, “give me that.”

“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understa-”

“You don’t have to make me happy,” he places his hand on her shoulder, “you don’t have to make anyone happy. Not in the slightest.”

They both look at each other, and Gracie protectively pulls at her robe. Awsten’s the first to move, nervously wrapping an arm around his sister, holding her by the shoulders. Gracie sobs a bit and reaches up to hug him back. They share the moment, and when Gracie pulls away from him, he feels a wave of grief.

“I’ll, um, pour the potion down the drain.” she’s gone back to not making any eye contact, and Awsten takes it as a cue to start toning down the familial vibes that made her uncomfortable.

“Seems like a good idea,” he rubs her back, assuring her that everything’s going to be okay, “I’ll go check on Otto.”

As if he were waiting to do so, Otto shouted a resounding “BREAKFAST” from downstairs, followed by an equally loud clang of what Awsten can only assume are their good plates. _ Dammit. Not again. _

“Otto! What did I say about keeping out of the fucking cabinets!” Awsten yells as he speeds downstairs, giving Gracie another hug as a goodbye.

* * *

“I told you.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I should’ve listened.”

“You still have the potion, right? Spent good time on those ingredients for you, girl.” she plops down on the couch, continuing to scroll through her phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You spent money. Good for you.” she looks at a sleeping Otto, curled up on the floor while hugging a pillow. He looked so peaceful, hopefully their spell didn’t fuck him up too much.

“Your brother is full of shit. If he wanted to save Otto, he would’ve done it a looong time ago. Not with this whole ‘morals’ and ‘family’ crap.”

Gracie swallowed, her hand twitching around the bottle of green liquid in her hand. “Good thing I didn’t believe any of it, right?”

Otto smiles in his sleep, unaware of the two witches plotting to change his life forever.


	3. the dream

The field was vast.

There were trees, tall and almost ominous, casting shadows across the flora. Bushes of flowers rustled in the wind, creating a sweet smell in the air. Bees buzzed happily, birds sang in the treetops, and the sun shone bright in the clearing. None of it made any sense, being in the middle of dry, burned out Texas, but it was enjoyable. A pleasant walk to have, a pleasant day to sit and bask in what nature had to offer.

“C’mon!” a boy yelled in the distance. As Awsten ran toward the voice, he was able to make out the boy’s features: short but well-built, loose, curly hair strands falling out of a dark grey beanie, and a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Awsten sighed- Otto was back.

He ran after him, smiling and laughing as his shoes hit the soft grass, almost slipping a few times in excitement. He chased his friend, zipping through trees and hopping over bushes that seemed to repeat over and over. He felt like he was going in circles, trying to catch up with Otto. The air in his lungs was beginning to shorten, he was losing breath over this hunt, he needed a break. He slowed down, pausing to catch his breath, to swat away the bees that had gotten in on the chase too.

“Awsten, hurry! We’re almost there!” Otto called out, zooming behind another tree in the distance.

Awsten took that as a challenge. He sped up this time, making sure he was hot on Otto’s trail. When he got past the orchard of trees, otto was in a wide, bare field. It only had grass, weeds and an immaculate view of a clear sky. He paused to admire it, take in the sun, the world around him. Otto sat on a ledge up ahead- Awsten didn’t know they’d been on a cliff this entire time, he would’ve been scared shitles had it not been for his friend running around.

They sat together, and Awsten took a moment to admire him. His skin was clear; it didn’t have any rotting holes or tears of flesh, it didn’t have it’s sickly green hue. His teeth, when he smiled, were white, and his hair wasn’t a ratty, unkempt mess. He loved this version of him, alive and smiling and actually breathing- he couldn’t get enough of it. They stared over the edge of the cliff together; Awsten held Otto’s arm in fear of falling, but Otto reassured him that they were going to be okay.

What made Awsten truly confused was the beanie Otto had chosen to wear. It was blazing hot outside, he must’ve been sweaty. Awsten figured he’d do Otto a favor. For old time’s sake.

“Here, let’s get this off of you.” he tugged on the beanie, but Otto held it firmly in his hand. He refused to let go. 

“But you’ll get sad again,” Otto confessed, “I have to keep it on, for you.”

Awsten thought that was ridiculous. What would he be sad for? Without warning Otto, he yanked the beanie off his head. Behind it, Awsten almost gagged. There, at the crown of Otto’s head, was a bloody, rotten bullet wound.

He wakes up with a bloody nose.

**Author's Note:**

> tw: slight mentions of rotting flesh/visualization of trypophobia


End file.
